The Illusion of Moral Neutrality - Part IV
First Things 35
(August/September 1993): 32-37
Reproduced with permission
Introduction:
Part IV of the original article is reproduced
here because it discusses the false dichotomy of
'religious' and 'secular.' However, the first
three parts of the essay should not be
neglected. The first introduces the false god
Neutrality, whose worshippers "cannot answer the
question 'Why be neutral?' without committing
themselves to particular goods--social peace,
self-expression, self-esteem, ethnic pride, or
what have you--thereby violating their own
desideratum of Neutrality." Part II explores the
nature of genuine tolerance, concluding that it
is a moral virtue. A hard saying is proposed in
Part III: that tolerance cannot be taught unless
all of the virtues are taught as well. "We
cannot compensate for the collapse of all our
virtues," warns the author, "by teaching
tolerance and letting the rest go by, as some
educators and social critics seem to think; the
only cure for moral collapse is moral renewal,
on all fronts simultaneously." [Link
to the full article] [Administrator]
Time now to turn to the question of religious
tolerance, where even the rules are far from easy to
discern.
What is religion anyway? Some people say that all
religions depend on faith, while all secularisms
depend on reason. But as Chesterton remarked in
Orthodoxy, "It is idle to talk always of the
alternative of reason and faith. Reason is itself a
matter of faith. It is an act of faith to assert
that our thoughts have any relation to reality at
all." Other people say that all religions believe in
God, while all secularisms do not. But though
Buddhists do not believe in God, yet we call
Buddhism a religion.
Still others, like Tillich and Niebuhr, hold the
mark of religion to be the practice of ultimate
concern that orders all other concerns,
unconditioned loyalty that trumps all other
loyalties. Here we finally hit the mark. For
Christians, the ultimate concern is the saving God
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob who has revealed
himself in Messiah. Though Buddhists do not believe
in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, much less
in Messiah, they do have an ultimate concern-escape
from suffering, inherent in desire, which, they
hold, springs in turn from the illusion of
existence.
But if religion is the practice of ultimate
concern, then we have another problem. In the first
place, even a secularism may be the practice of an
ultimate concern. We acknowledge this, for instance,
by calling Leninism a religion; similarly we say of
a greedy man that "his god is money" and call
misplaced devotion "idolatry." In the second place,
even among those secularisms that do not go so far
as to identify ultimate concerns, none is without
implications as to what could, or could not, count
as an ultimate concern. John Stuart Mill could never
decide which, if any, of the "permanent interests of
man as a progressive being" was deserving of
unconditioned loyalty. But one thing he was sure of,
that Messiah was not among them.
What all this tells us is that "religious" and
"secular" constitute a false dichotomy. We would do
better with a trichotomy. An acknowledged religion
like Christianity or Buddhism posits an ultimate
concern and admits it. An unacknowledged religion
like Leninism posits an ultimate concern but denies
that so doing is religious. And an incomplete
religion like Millianism has not finished ranking
its concerns. Incomplete religion can live only in
the dreamworld of thought. In the light of day it
must become complete or die. For in every life or
way of life-whether lived simply, lived with the
guidance of an ethical theory, or even lived in
defiance of an ethical theory-given enough time,
some concern eventually emerges as paramount.
Eventually there is something to which every knee
bows. This is the person's god. As a matter of
theory, one may deny that any concern deserves
ultimacy. But as a matter of practice, no one
escapes ceding ultimacy to something, whether it
deserves ultimacy or not. Choices between
incompatible urgencies are unavoidable. To prevent
the rise of one or another of these urgencies to
supremacy, a person would have to practice a truly
Stoic discipline of contradiction-and in the end we
would have to ask what urgency he served in so
disordering himself. In short, one need not be
conscious of his god, or even conscious that he has
a god. One might think he has no god, or that he is
"looking for" or "waiting for" a god. One may even
be converted from one god to another. But one will
have a god-or at least be on the road to having one.
With all of this ultimate concern floating about,
how can there be religious tolerance at all? The
answer is, there can't be-unless one's ultimate
concern commands it, or at least allows it. For in
this case and this case alone, tolerance toward
other claimants to ultimacy is obedience to one's
own.
Thus St. Hilary of Poitiers: "God does not want
unwilling worship, nor does He require a forced
repentance." The idea is that although God demands
and deserves our unconditioned loyalty, He is of
such a nature that nothing exacted by threats could
truly serve Him. For He desires sons and daughters,
not slaves: His love is inexorable and consumes
everything contrary to itself. This is not the
Kantian idea that choice is lovable but rather the
Christian idea that love is chosen. I do not say
that His supposed followers have always practiced
the loving tolerance He demands. I do say that
intolerance stands under His judgment.
But notice: the same consuming fire that for its
own sake demands tolerance, for its own sake sets
the limits to what is tolerated. If Hilary was right
that God does not want unwilling worship, then
Hilary's tolerance must be absolute with respect to
permitting belief in other gods. This does not mean
permitting every act of service to these gods.
Hilary must claim the right to say that there are
evil services which nothing deserving of
unconditioned loyalty could demand, and the
correlative right to try to stop anyone who attempts
them. For instance, whatever claims of conscience
Hilary may honor he cannot permit a person to plead
them in justification of murder. "God told me to
kill anyone who got in my way" cuts no ice with him;
nor is the case different when other ultimate
concerns, other gods, are pleaded in place of God.
The Defense of the Revolution, The Greater God of
the Whole, The Purity of the Race, the Hunger of
Moloch, The Right to Control One's Body-neither
these nor any other claimants to ultimacy are
accepted as justifying the sacrifice of innocents.
"Even conceding your God-given right to be left
alone by me in your honor to another god," I imagine
Hilary saying, "that right concerns your own soul
only. I will not permit you, in its service, to
inflict injuries which my own God abhors and
forbids."
My example is Christian because I am a Christian.
But the logic works just the same if you posit some
other ultimate concern, some other god than mine.
For instance, the god of the Benthamite utilitarian
is "aggregate pleasure." Hence if the Benthamite
could tolerate other creeds at all, such tolerance
would be both ordained and limited by the
requirements of such pleasure. Likewise, religious
tolerance for the Millian utilitarian would be both
ordained and limited by the nature of man's
"permanent interests" as a "progressive being," and
religious tolerance for the Leninist would be both
ordained and limited by the needs of "proletarian
dictatorship."
One might suppose that this logic works only for
so-called teleological creeds, said to give priority
to achieving the good over doing the right. This is
not so. No recent writer has more sternly insisted
on the priority of right over good than John Rawls.
Yet even he has an ultimate concern. His concern is
"autonomy," the conditions for the realization of
which are supposedly determined by choices made
behind a Veil of Ignorance that obliterates personal
memory. But the conclusion is obvious: For the
Rawlsian, religious tolerance is both ordained and
limited by what people could want who no longer
remembered the love of God.
Where does all this leave us? The bottom line is
that Neutrality is no more coherent in the matter of
religious tolerance than it is in tolerance of any
other sort. What you can tolerate pivots on your
ultimate concern. Because different ultimate
concerns ordain different zones of tolerance, social
consensus is possible only at the points where these
zones overlap. Note well: The greater the
resemblance of contending concerns, the greater the
overlap of their zones of tolerance. The less the
resemblance of contending concerns, the less the
overlap of their zones of tolerance. Should
contending concerns become sufficiently unlike,
their zones of tolerance no longer intersect at all.
Consensus vanishes.
This, I believe, is our current trajectory. The
embattled term "culture war" is not inflammatory; it
is merely exact. And we can expect the war to grow
worse. The reason for this is that our various gods
ordain not only different zones of tolerance, but
different norms to regulate the dispute among
themselves. True tolerance is not well tolerated.
For although the God of some of the disputants
ordains that they love and persuade their opponents,
the gods of some of the others ordain no such thing.